Gosh, the problem with stories is you don’t know where to start and where to end. Well in this case, it’s easier to end because it’s an ongoing story in a way.

I met George when I just moved to Bangalore. It was a common friend’s wedding and I thought he was cute. As cute as his girlfriend at the time. I remember it was the first time I’d ever seen anyone wear a mundu stylishly. I was sooooo an NRI-tourist that of course mundus and banana-leaf-eating was as normal as giggling in a rickshaw.

Bleh bleh..we hardly ever kept in touch.

Many many moons later, on one regular day he gave me a lecture on how he liked me. A lecture. I had JUST gotten out of a very very long relationship and through my thoughts of thinking he was mad (and maybe a bit cute), I giggled and said that’s fine but I needed time.

I think our clock hands moved very differently because he didn’t care about my ‘time requirements’ and his courtship of lectures seemed to work. We started dating rather quickly hence. Six months into us dating and I couldn’t believe how easy this was. I don’t want to say that I thought he was 'the one’ but he ticked nearly every box I ever had. Nearly because he doesn't like mushrooms. Who doesn't like mushrooms? It's so umami-ish!

Then two years later, he asked me to marry him with a box of candy rings, all my cartoons about him edited with his face (I laughed so hard!) and the first love note from him. Also he cooked me the most fantastic dish, which he has never made ever again. I just realised that if I said ‘ask me tomorrow’, I may have had that dish every day for weeks or until he realised my genius plan! Sigh! Slow genius.

Also at that time, he found out that I’m the least ‘bride-y’ girl in the entire universe. Even I didn’t realise how much I’m NOT a bride. I spent my entire tomboy-ish life dreaming about my future spinster life with a farm or just a whole lot of pets and left all the wedding dreams to my sister. For someone who absolutely ADORES attending weddings, I abhor even thinking about actually HAVING a wedding. *insert a lot lot lot lot lot lot lot of guilt and unaccepted explanation about my feelings to family/friends/people here*

We signed our marriage registration papers with a few friends, who surprisingly showed up (thanks you guys!!), and realised how I suddenly LOVED saying the word ‘husband’. I also may be the only person who pinched their husbands bum in a government office.

I got married to this man who has the most beautiful family, wonderful friends and I cannot be more grateful. The wedding means nothing to me but every single day means the world. I didn’t need a white gown and lipstick to show the world that I’m in love when I can show my world, i.e. you George, everything I need to in my tacky pyjamas and fur in my hair.

We’re living our happily ever after.

Update: It’s kind of sickening that I look forward to seeing him home everyday with as much eagerness as I did when we just started going out.

Roses are red. Violets are Blue. I'm married now. I can hardly believe it too!